


At His Beck and Call

by MsAnimeManga4ever



Series: Sherlocked [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAnimeManga4ever/pseuds/MsAnimeManga4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's nightmares were always terrible, and Sherlock was always able to calm him down when he woke up from one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At His Beck and Call

                John tossed and turned, and moaned and groaned. The soldier whimpered and talked-sometimes shouted-in his sleep. Suddenly he shot up, screaming until his voice became hoarse. When his screams died out he was reduced to shaking and pulled his legs in-resting his head on his knees. Tears started to stream down his face as he desperately tried to breathe easily. John was so used to having Sherlock there to help him through his nightmares that he had forgotten how to deal with them on his own.

                Earlier that night-after they had retreated to Sherlock’s room and gone to bed-Sherlock suddenly leapt up; saying something about lose ends and the case and he would be right back. So now John was stuck, alone, and he couldn’t remember for the life of him how he used to get through his nightmares.

                John tuned his head and saw his phone through his tears. Maybe if he knew when Sherlock was going to get home, the anticipation would distract him and calm him down. In reality he really just wanted his boyfriend. So with shaking hands he texted Sherlock.

 

                Sherlock was in the middle of talking to one of his homeless network, when he heard his phone chime with a text. The text tone was John’s and he immediately took it out of his pocket.

                John was texting him in the middle of the night, which meant he was awake, obviously. He knows I’m out wrapping up a case and therefore would not wonder where I was. But why is he awake? He could be texting because of a client but that again leads to the question of why he is up, so it’s not likely. He wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares.

When Sherlock looked at the message he was further assured his deduction was correct.

                The text asks when I’m getting home. Not a sign of worry for me, but a sign he wants me there. John normally doesn’t bother me when I’m out on a case. There are extra letters among the message randomly, which would indicate unsteady hands. John shakes when his nightmares are particularly bad.

                Sherlock pocketed his phone.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll contact you later.”

With that he briskly turned on his heel and made his way to the road to get a taxi.

                John’s state hadn’t changed when Sherlock walked into their room. He still hadn’t managed to take steady breaths. Sherlock’s deductions were confirmed, and he swiftly toed of his shoes, yanked of his coat and scarf-abandoning them on the floor-and climbed onto the bed. The detective wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, and in turn the blogger burrowed into him. Sherlock alternated between speaking to John in a hushed tone and humming into his hear; all the while rubbing his back, stroking fingers through the greying blonde’s hair, and slowly rocking John back and forth. Occasionally he planted kiss on the doctor’s head. Eventually John calmed down and sat there, breathing into Sherlock’s chest as he continued the soothing pattern. John took one final deep, calming breath, signaling Sherlock that he could stop.

“Better?” John mimicked his soft tone.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

               They sat there, as Sherlock hummed and ran his fingers through John’s hair absently; and John rested against him, letting the detective support his weight. When John had drifted back to sleep, Sherlock laid him down under the covers and wrapped himself back around him. The detective kissed his blogger once more, and buried his face into the back of his neck.

“Good night John.”

“Night Sherlock,” John slurred, tongue thick with sleep. “Love you,” he yawned. Sherlock smiled.

“Love you.”


End file.
